There's more to life than Brooklyn
by shinigami nanoda
Summary: “Ooh. So they’re in denial.” Jack got an evil glint in his eye. “Whadda ya say we do something about it? Ya know, help them out a little.” Spot/Race for Funkiechick!


Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. But if you use the theory that every decision causes a split into parallel universes, then I'm sure I own them somewhere. Just not here. So don't sue. 'Cause I don't have the money for that in this universe either. : )  
  
AN: Well, Funkiechick, this is for you. And to all the people who haven't read her stories, Go! Read them now! I command thee!. . . ahem. . .onto the story.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Race was late. Consequently the lodging house was a very dull place to be. There was a poker game going on, but it wasn't quite the same. If you won a hand when Race was playing, it was a big deal, you could rub in his face for about a week. Without him it was like, oh look, I won. woo.  
  
The room was pretty calm until Blink got frustrated and decided they should all play 52 card pick up. That was pretty much the end of the card game.  
  
"Ya know what I think?" Mush broke the silence that the group had been sitting in.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think Spot and Race are perfect for each other."  
  
There was a collective groan.  
  
"Just 'cause you and Blink finally got together doesn't mean everyone else is in love."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I think Mush is right." Everybody turned toward Skittery, surprised.  
  
"And why would you think that?" Jack put what they had all been wondering into words.  
  
"You know how Spot had that big party for his birthday last month?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, Snitch and I had just gone outside and well, Spot and Race were there, looking a little more friendly than just friends."  
  
"Ooh. So they're in denial." Jack got an evil glint in his eye. "Whadda ya say we do something about it? Ya know, help them out a little." He turned toward Skittery. "And just what were you and Snitch doing outside?"  
  
Skittery turned pink and looked at Snitch who was sitting next to him, which only made both of them turn a darker shade of red. They were both very grateful to Specs who changed the subject.  
  
"But Race is too scared to say anything and Spot is too manly to fall in love."  
  
"That's why they need our help. So here's what we're gonna do-" Jack went on to outline his plan. Now they only had to wait until tomorrow evening.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
The door opened and Race walked in, hands shoved in his pockets. The beginnings of a nasty bruise decorated his cheek, but that didn't surprise anyone. Race got into all sorts of trouble, but somehow he always managed to get out of it.  
  
He made his way over to Kloppman, who was straightening things up behind his desk.  
  
"Um. . .Kloppman? I ain't got enough to pay for tonight. Could ya let me stay and I'll pay ya double tomorrow?"  
  
Kloppman looked down his nose and through his small, dirty glasses at the boy before him. "Alright. Just don't forget."  
  
Race could have hugged him. But he didn't.  
  
"Thanks Kloppman!" He called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stairs.  
  
"Heya Race! Want us to deal you in?" Jack asked and Race stopped on the stairs.  
  
"Sorry. Can't." Those were probably the two hardest words he had ever said in his life.  
  
"Why not? Tough day at the track?"  
  
"Yeah." 'Tough day' did not even begin to do the day justice. He had been accused of cheating, gotten punched, and had all his money stolen. And to top it all off he hadn't won a single race.  
  
"You could bet with cigars or somethin'," Blink offered.  
  
"I would, but I just smoked my last one." Race had pretty much nothing.  
  
"You could not bet." Mush said, no doubt forgetting who he was talking to.  
  
"You can't play poker and not bet! It's like eating without food!" With that Race climbed up the rest of the stairs, muttering something about sacrilege.  
  
Race flopped face down on his bed, choosing to ignore the fact that he was broke, hungry, and cigarless. And the fact that someone had stolen his hat.  
  
It was still light outside, but he decided to go to sleep. Then Jack walked in.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Spot had barely stepped into the warehouse that served as the Brooklyn newsies' lodging house when someone ran up to him. A tall brown haired boy with glasses stood in front of him. Spot couldn't remember his name at first, but he knew the kid was from Manhattan. Specs. That was it.  
  
"Spot! Jack says he needs you to come to Manhattan. Some guys got Race and he was wondering if you knew anything about it."  
  
"He think I was behind it?"  
  
"No!" Specs seemed nervous. "It's just that he thinks it might be something more than a normal fight."  
  
"How bad is he?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Race."  
  
"He'll live." The silence when Specs finished seemed to say 'but not by much'.  
  
"When does he want me over?"  
  
"Now."  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
As soon as Spot arrive at the Lodging House Jack hurried him upstairs. He said they had to talk in the bunkroom because he didn't want to worry the other newsies yet.  
  
But when Jack failed to step into the room behind him, Spot started to get suspicious. He turned around, only to have the door slam in his face. Then he heard a small click. Spot lunged for the doorknob, but it wouldn't move.  
  
There was a creak behind him and Spot spun around quickly. Race was sitting on a bunk, shifting awkwardly. Jack had said Spot wanted to talk to him. Now, they weren't enemies, but ever since what had happened at the party a month ago, Race had tried to avoid being alone with Spot.  
  
"Hiya Spot." Race broke the silence nervously.  
  
"Is a bruise on the face what you guys call 'beat up'?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"They said someone got to ya."  
  
"Well yeah, but not bad." He frowned. "They said you wanted to talk to me."  
  
They looked at each other for a moment and then at the locked door.  
  
"Are you getting the feeling they set us up?'  
  
"Yup. I say we leave."  
  
"The door's kinda locked."  
  
"I bet ya the window isn't."  
  
Spot and Race walked over to the window, and sure enough, they had no problem opening it. They climbed through the window and down the fire escape, ending up in the alley beside the Lodging House.  
  
"Well, I should be getting back to Brooklyn."  
  
Race rolled his eyes, "There's more to life than Brooklyn ya know."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Sheepshead races for one."  
  
There was a pause that steadily grew more awkward.  
  
"Um. . .I just want to say I'm sorry for what happened at the party." Race reached up to fix his hat, realizing too late that he didn't have his hat. He tried to hide it by scratching his forehead, but he wasn't sure if it worked.  
  
"Ya don't need to apologize. It wasn't all your fault anyway."  
  
"So you ain't mad at me?" Race sounded hopeful, but it might have been Spot's imagination.  
  
"Nah. Come on, we were both drunk and guys do stupid things when they're drunk. It's not like you meant anything by it." Actually Spot hadn't been half as drunk as Race and he had kinda enjoyed what happened. Not that he would ever admit it.  
  
"But what if I did mean something by it?"  
  
Spot looked over at Race.  
  
"Whadda ya mean?"  
  
"What if I'm not sorry." Race didn't look at him.  
  
"If you're not sorry, then I'm not sorry either."  
  
Race turned toward him, now very aware of how close they were standing to each other, "Whadda ya mean?"  
  
"I. . .uh. . .I don't really know how to say this. . ." Spot was flustered.  
  
Race was in a state of shock. Spot was never flustered. Never.  
  
"But, um, well, I. . ." Spot was still going.  
  
"I know what you mean." Race interrupted him and Spot was very grateful.  
  
Spot smiled, not a smirk, but a genuine smile, and slowly brushed his lips across Race's. He pulled back a little. Then he smirked.  
  
He looked at Race to see how he took it. But then he found himself kissing him again.  
  
"So, did ya really mean what ya said?" Race asked, leaning back a little.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Ya sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Rea-" Spot cut Race off.  
  
"Yes. How can I prove it?"  
  
"I dunno. You think of something."  
  
"I'll. . . I'll eat your hat."  
  
"I ain't got a hat." Exactly.  
  
"How 'bout I get you a cigar?"  
  
Race smiled. "Works for me."  
  
Spot was about to lean forward again when suddenly the air in front of him was empty. Race was now behind him, grasping Spot's shoulders to keep him from moving.  
  
"Race, what are you doing?"  
  
"Hiding."  
  
"From what?"  
  
"See those three over there?"  
  
"Ya mean the guy in the cowboy outfit standing next to the two dressed like Indians?" They were scary yes, but nothing to hide from.  
  
"Look to your left."  
  
"Somehow those girls playing hopscotch seem a little less than threatening."  
  
Race smacked him on the back of the head. "Other left."  
  
"The three suspicious looking guys over there?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"And why are you hiding from them?"  
  
"They're sore losers. They were cheating and got mad when I still won. But it's not like it was my fault that they were bad at it."  
  
"So they're the ones who took your hat?"  
  
"Yup." And all his money.  
  
Spot waltzed over to them, his smirk never fading.  
  
"Any you fellas got a light?"  
  
One of them handed him a match, hoping to get rid of him as quickly as possible.  
  
"Any a you got a cigar?"  
  
"Here ya go. Now beat it kid."  
  
"Any a you got two bits?" Spot asked, now puffing away at his new cigar.  
  
The guy took a lazy swing at him, but Spot jumped back and sauntered back to the alley.  
  
He stuck the cigar in Race's mouth. "There, do ya believe me now?"  
  
Race took the cigar out of his mouth and pulled Spot toward him. He let the kiss answer for him.  
  
Unfortunately, they had seen Race and were coming toward the alley, so the two of them had to take off running.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Jack and the other newsies were sitting around, waiting until they felt that they could open the door and let Spot and Race out.  
  
Mush was looking out the window, watching people walk by. There went Mr. Bradley from the bakery on 2nd street. Mr. King's widow walked by with her daughter. Spot and Race ran by laughing. Three thuggish looking guys ran past right after them.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
If Spot and Race were upstairs, how could they be running around the street?  
  
"Hey Jack?"  
  
"Yeah Mush?"  
  
"I think Spot and Race are outside."  
  
"Now what makes you say that?"  
  
"Well, they just ran by the window."  
  
Jack turned to look out the window just in time to see the two of them tearing down the street going the opposite way than they had before. The thugs were still following them, but they were slower this time.  
  
"I think they're being chased." Mush stated the obvious.  
  
"We gotta go help them." Jack took off out the door, followed by the others who had been in on his plan.  
  
They ran toward Spot and Race, who were running towards them. Jack's group stopped, ready to hear what was going on. But Race and Spot continued running at full speed toward the lodging house.  
  
It wasn't until the saw the door slam that they realized what was going on.  
  
Jack and his group of well meaning matchmakers huddled around the door. They tried to open it. Locked.  
  
"Come on guys, let us in!" Mush wailed. After all, he was the best person to use if you were trying to make someone feel guilty. "Please!"  
  
Through the door they could hear Spot and Race talking loudly.  
  
"What do you say Spot, should we forgive them?"  
  
"No. I think they need to learn their lesson."  
  
"Ya know, I completely agree with you."  
  
The footsteps faded as the two walked away from the door.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
AN: Tada! My first slash- written for Funkiechick who got me hooked on Spot/Race. : ) For being so spiftacular I give you hatless!Race and cigargiving!Spot! Woo! That was fun to write. See, I can write fluff! 


End file.
